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***
“We don’t get to choose what or whom we love, I want to say. We just don’t get to choose.” - Maggie Nelson, Bluets
***
Banquet halls are almost always guaranteed to be overwhelming, worthy of applause, or just plain claustrophobic. All spaces in which events are held carry the hopes and expectations of those furnishing them. If Osamu had to rank this reception setup, he’d give a solid seven out of ten stars. He might even bump it up to a seven-and-a-half if the food being served elevates the atmosphere to feel a bit homier.
Comfort and familiarity tend to make him the most at ease, but then again, this isn’t his wedding so who cares how he feels. Even so, food is an undeniable mood maker and it’s fair to be expectant of high-quality given the grooms and his experience with catering. He had been the person who recommended this catering service to Ji when he’d asked.
Honesty has never been his strongest attribute, but secretly, Osamu had hoped to use this company at his own wedding.
He daydreamed about how someday a banquet hall would be filled with the warmth of cheery conversations — with the space being slightly too warm from all the hot air that was escaping everyone’s mouths as they frequently opened and shut. Reminiscing on the day of a wedding at a wedding about his own fantasy seemed a little self-centered, but he couldn’t help how sentimental he had become over the years.
***
When they had first settled in, the sun was still burning a harsh red-orange color that was making its descent out of the sky, making room for the darkness to overtake it.
Osamu happens to really like evenings because they remind him of dinner, his favorite meal of the three, and it is when he gets to spend time with those he cares about most in a single space in time. This evening he finds himself over at Keiji’s house for their biweekly sleepover/campout and they eat some delicious cold noodles in order to prepare them for the warm summer night ahead.
One of the best parts about his friendship with Keiji is how easy it is to be around him. Both boys happen to be fond of routine and so every campout is structured in a similar manner of dinner, then set up, then dessert, then some form of entertainment [video games, board games, movies, or stories], before they finally drift off to sleep.
There are those quiet moments that hang in the air when two children are laying side by side at a sleepover, and Akaashi was always the type to break them between him and Osamu.
“Ya know, I, uh, I don’t know if I’ll ever get married, Ji. The only people I need in my life are my family, and that includes you.”
Osamu didn’t expect much of a reaction out of Akaashi because he seemed to be quickly perfecting his act of stoicism, intentional or not. It was still far too warm in the small space of their two-person tent set up in Akaashi’s backyard, but they were used to it by now. He wouldn’t have noticed any reactions since the lamp in their tent was no longer illuminated if it weren’t for a single slim pointer finger curling around his own. Osamu wasn’t sure exactly why Keiji decided to lock their fingers together then, especially because it was usually reserved for moments when one of them was worried and needed reassurance, but then a tiny whisper silenced all his thoughts, “Osa, you really shouldn’t say things like that. How can we ever be together like the people in the stories if you refuse to marry.”
***
Honestly, the banquet hall was beautiful and he probably would have done the same thing for his own wedding. However, it fucking sucked that this isn’t his wedd—
“Hi, are you the famous Osamu that Akaashi talks non-stop about? One would figure he was marrying you tonight with the way he blabbers.”
Unsure of how to respond, all he can get out is a slightly strangled, “Hello, Udai-sensei. I hope ‘Kaashi has been treatin’ ya well, given yer relationship. I hear ya both can be, uh, difficult given yer stubbornness.” Osamu had tried to remain as tight-lipped as he could given the nasty backhanded compliment he was just supplied.
“I’ve heard things about you, obviously. Funny that we haven’t properly met before, but I have eaten plenty of your onigiri. Delicious, by the way.”
“I’m glad ya find that funny given how I find your greeting funny. Do ya normally greet acquaintances in a more neutral tone and not like yer meeting a coworker’s significant other for the first time?” He knew he was being petty and pointed, but fuck, he hadn’t been the one to start it. Out of him and ‘Tsumu, he’d always been the one to fall to direct or indirect challenges. His competitiveness always came to bite him in the ass.
“Not especially, but I really am interested in talking to someone that Akaashi talks about second to his, well, now husband.”
What the fuck was this guy’s problem? Digging salt into his wounds. There was no reason for Udai, a short stack who he knew irked Akaashi beyond belief on more than one occasion, to be opening a conversation with such jabs and familiarity. It’d surely be interesting to figure out what the mangaka knew, and why he would bring it up at a goddamn dinner at a goddamn wedding. “Well, here I am. Before you begin asking though, I’d like to get another drink if possible. I gotta feelin’ that this’ll pull more outta me than I’d like.”
Osamu’s fucked if this guy knew he was in love with….
***
Sunlight and Akaashi give Osamu the same kind of warm feeling. In the sense that if he spends enough time, even just looking at, or with Akaashi, then at first it’s warming in the subtle slow way that makes goosebumps appear without the chill. But all too quickly, the feeling becomes apparent and consuming, as sweat begins to form at the base of your hairline and you can feel the heat in your armpits.
Sunlight and Akaashi can be far too much for Osamu if not moderated.
When Osamu finally realizes that he’s been thinking about how to put words to the feeling he gets while spending time with Akaashi, he’s 15 and feels like a shitty cliche. The afternoon sun is bleeding between the slightly open blinds in his shared room with ‘Tsumu. Atsumu forces him to sleep on the top bunk, which annoys him to high hell, so he often spends hours laying on the rug on their floor. Too tired to put in the easy effort of climbing up the bunk bed.
The window is also slightly open, letting in hot breezes, with the mildly irritating hum of their fan going on in the background. They have to circulate the air in their room, seeing as they are sweaty, hormonal teen boys. Which explains why he would be giving much thought to his relationship with Akaashi. It didn’t mean anything. Just like the letter that appeared in Akaashi’s locker that suggested he was to receive a confession this afternoon, meant nothing to Osamu too.
He wondered if the confession was happening as he laid here, sprawled out on a rug that definitely needed vacuuming. A haze passes through quickly from when they were young and he hears the faint “how can we be together forever if you won’t marry” ricocheting from all surfaces in his skull.
Breaking the stickiness in the air (mostly by adding to it with the hot air about to come out of his mouth with his words), Osamu spoke, “‘Tsumu, if I say that I want to be with someone forever, does that imply that we’ll have to get married eventually?”
Tsk. A beat passed after the tongue click before his brother said, “Nah, unless you’re in love with them or somethin’, but knowing ya, yer gonna marry ‘Kaashi or some shit.”
His brows furrow, not clearly understanding why Atsumu is bringing up Akaashi, or why he would respond like that, and so he gives it a second to linger in the air. To give it a chance to settle in the silence for a while. In the meantime, the rustling of ‘Tsumu in his sheets along with the annoying beeps of a game come from above him.
“‘Tsumu?”
“Hm?”
“Do ya think ’Kaashi would want to be with me forever because he loves me or because we’re best friends?”
Another quick moment of silence before he answers, “Is there a difference with a bookworm like ‘Kaashi? Who knows what that smartass is thinkin’. I think he’s a hopeless scrub who wouldn’t agree to spend forever with someone like ya if he didn’t at least tolerate yer existence. God knows why the hell I do. Now shut up so I can finally beat this stupid boss. I’ve been stuck fer weeks and everyone knows you’ve been stuck to him for years. It’s kinda sad how oblivious ya can be given how smart I am, but…”
***
Osamu doesn’t know when he stopped listening to his brother, but maybe he should have given that conversation more thought, especially given the fact that Udai-sensei had been trying to pry into his life for at least 20 minutes now.
(Not so) Thankfully, Udai gets cut off in the middle of another far too personal question by a mic tap. “Okay, okay, I know weddings are exciting and we’re all so pleased to see the newly wedded Akaashis, but if everyone could take their seats as the main course is about to be served. The options tonight are either salmon or chicken, so please do remember what you RSVP’d on your invite.”
He wasn’t quite sure which he had picked as his entree since Akaashi’s favorite onigiri filling was salmon and he might’ve been feeling nostalgic upon initially receiving the invite, but Akaashi had told him that the chicken was delicious based on the tasting. Osamu hadn’t been in much contact with the groom before the wedding due to some obvious, but unspoken “lingering” feelings on his part; however, Akaashi never failed to inform Osamu of any food-related wedding plans, which was weird considerin’ that they’d discuss all things food. Always.
Was this information supposed to be Akaashi’s weird version of rejection to his never uttered confession or was his childhood best friend just trying to seek advice from Osamu, a literal chef with a paper hanging on his restaurant wall that made it all official?
Akaashi was never one to be so forward in an indirect fashion, but then again, Osamu never thought Akaashi was going to get married to anyone but him. It wasn’t even that long ago that they were planning out hypothetical weddings together….
***
“All I’m sayin is that a three tier cake is the max for a weddin’ cake. Anythin’ more is like askin’ for a disaster to fuck it up.”
There was no response, but Osamu was sure he could hear Keiji’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. There was no way that he wasn’t given the audacity of his previous statement that he dreams about having at least a four-tier cake at his wedding. A bit like a loon, but also endearing cause he dreams big.
Weddings and what they entail weren’t an everyday conversation, but seeing as they were roommates and idiots who decided it’d been fun to take separate but major-specific courses on love this semester. They were suffering together. As friends do. They suffer together about love. Nothing more, but Osamu could dream to suffer less. But his love was unlikely to be acknowledged and accepted.
“Stop laughin’ at me! Why don’t ya tell me how yer weddin’ vows are coming along, hotshot?”
“Do you want me to tell you what I have so far? Am I presenting to the class? Hm?” It was utterly unfair that Akaashi’s smirk got a little more endearing every time Osamu was lucky enough to be on the receiving end, but he wished it would seem fonder. Instead, it always felt more challenging. As if it were pushing him to admit what he’s always too scared to think about himself.
“Yeah, I’d like to hear what ya’ve been workin’ on considering ya have time to distract me from my menu making. Also, do ya prefer chicken or salmon for an entree? It’s possible to have both, but I gotta decide which to make for the taste test.”
“Ah, your salmon is delicious. Do that. I wish you’d make it at a future wedding that we’re part of. However, I do think my vows will outshine your salmon any day. I only have a snippet and it isn’t my finest writing, but I have some inspiration from you also preparing for a wedding,” in a whisper that Osamu would miss if he weren’t awaiting every breath that left Keiji’s mouth, he heard the frail “and I can imagine us doing it together.”
It lingered for the slightest second before a loud “AHEM” filled the space as Keiji began, “Love isn’t dependent on how long you’ve known a person. Nor is it reliant on how long you anticipate you’ll know them. It can come in bursts for some and can lie dormant in others. With the two of us here together, no matter the number of people that surround us, I know that you’ll be by my side always, just like you have been, and that the love we share eclipses all rational thought. It’s funny because I am supposed to offer my unyielding support, but that’s a given based on how long we’ve known each other. There has never been a doubt in my mind that you would be the one by my side since I opened my family’s door that day. It was then that I realized my life partner was someone who can’t look me in the eyes when I’m nervous, who can’t help but stare at the curves of my lips when I smirk, who knows my quirks with no judgment — ” and then he just stopped.
Osamu was unsure what happened that night since it was so long ago, but he does recall that Keiji cut himself off at that moment, and excused himself. There was no discussion about weddings or their assignments after that night, and maybe he should have probed a little more…
***
All night his mind had been drifting in and out of the present, only to be drawn back due to all sorts of interruptions. Assuming it would happen again, maybe it would be best for Osamu to finally make a break for the exit since he’d long finished dinner, and finally escaped Udai.
“Alright, alright. That’s what I’m talking about? Can I have your attention please? We need the dance floor cleared for tonight’s first official dance between the newly wedded husbands. Give it up for our grooms of honor...”
He couldn’t register who was speaking, but it didn’t matter given the ache in his chest and the quick grimace he had to hide from watching eyes. Tenma still noticed though, given their proximity, when had he gotten that close, and grabbed for Osamu’s shoulder. Steering them back to any random seat so they could watch the couple dance amongst the others.
It was a shame given the fact that Osamu had only ever danced with one person, and now he was standing here watching that same person, the person he’d always wanted to see across from him. Only him. Dance with another man. Akaashi’s gaze was always locked onto his partner, and Osamu wished that Akaashi would stop looking at his newly officiated husband like he wrote every literary classic to exist.
***
Would it be so hard for Keiji to really look at him? To see Osamu as something more than the silly kid he met by accident one summer?
Maybe it was his own mistake for thinking Keiji would understand that this party invite was a date and not an opportunity for Ji to get a little tipsy and flirty. There’s no need for him to walk up to guys and lay a hand on their shoulder while batting his pretty, long lashes while asking for another drink. He didn’t have to accept the invite to play beer pong just because he’s heard how fun the game is from Konoha.
Keiji should just be spending the night here. With Osamu. Preferably with Osamu’s arm around Ji’s shoulder and Keiji’s arm around his waist. Osamu would be willing to support him no matter what, but he just had to stop, look, and ask.
After what seemed like another grueling half-hour, Osamu finally allowed his frustration to win out as he strode across the room, snaking an arm around Keiji’s middle while shooting an obviously fake smile at the guy who was far too bulky for normalcy.
“You know, Osa, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were jealous, and because I do know better, that’s how I know my plan all night worked. The downside is I’m a lot less sober than I wanted to be because you took your sweet time playing my knight tonight. Ha, that’s funny. Knight to-night.”
Even as an asshole when tipsy, Keiji’s words reached the deepest part of his chest. The smell of lemonade and some unidentifiable brand, but definitely, vodka drifting past his lips straight to Osamu’s nose. What a fuckin’ delight.
“Ji, all I wanted when I asked ya to this party was a single dance. That’s all parties are good for. Dancin’. But ya decided that drinkin’ and dudes were yer top priority, so fuck this.”
“If all you wanted was a dance, then I’m sorry to disappoint, but I have two left feet. However, there’s a light on that corner up ahead and I can think of a song to hum by the time we reach it. If you’d give me this dance so I can make it up to you. I do hate seeing you pout since it makes your face uglier and much more like Atsumu-san’s.”
Osamu was unsure of how many steps it took to reach the street lamp, but as soon as they stopped, so did his heart. He didn’t even get the chance to utter a single sound before Keiji assumed a sloppy position. He looped his entire arm around Osamu’s shoulder, heavy and saggy. Stuck his head into the crook of his neck, warm and damp. Wrapped an arm around his torso, snug, and then leaned in his weight. Almost like he was giving his whole self to Osamu if it meant that he was no longer upset with Keiji.
Before he started the promised humming, Keiji whispered some soft, muffled words that Osamu couldn’t clearly hear. But if he had to guess, his heart thought it might be an easy rejection made of fear. Something along the lines of “I would do more if it meant not losing you, therefore I will never do anything.”
Akaashi started humming. The light was buzzing and the bugs were fluttering.
If anyone was listening, which they couldn’t have been, they maybe could’ve heard the heaviness of Osamu’s heart beating in his chest. But all was lost to the night.
***
Applause drew Osamu back into the stuffy space for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight. He was sure that this was another one of those *big* wedding moments like cutting the cake or opening presents considering that many of the other moments have passed. Much to his surprise, Osamu was shocked to have remained at the wedding for so long. He had told his reflection before leaving his apartment that he would dash out after dinner but before the dance floor opened up, but it seems like things in his life continue to deviate from his plans.
In all honesty, he is a petty sap who is unable to force his eyes away from Akaashi’s silhouette. The navy blue of his suit was always the shade that had suited him best, highlighting the grey that competes for dominance amongst the green and blue of his irises. His brown pocket square was to ground Akaashi because it reminded him of the soil of the earth from which we all rise and all return eventually. It was poetic and dark, and oh so very Akaashi-like.
Meeting Akaashi was a coincidence. Staying in love with him his entire life was an accident. Things always happen to be, and Osamu was never fully in control. He knew all the finer details about Akaashi. He knew how he liked his tea, a low caffeine tea with herbal notes and a bit of honey, or which notebook page felt the best for energel gel pens. He knew how Akaashi dressed right after the shower — first underwear, then socks, then shirt, then pants.
What he didn’t know is when he became Akaashi again? When did he stop being Keiji or just Ji? When did he have the time to be swept off his feet when Osamu tried so hard to make sure they spent a majority of their time together? When had Osamu completely given away his heart to never be returned, to be ripped apart slowly?
Loving Akaashi Keiji is an art and is one of the finest honors. It can be done freely and without reciprocation. He was far too familiar.
Yet getting Akaashi Keiji to love Miya Osamu was impossible. He had tried and pined and yearned and devoted himself his entire life. By no means was he expectant of Akaashi to return his feelings. That was unnecessary, but as he stands in this large banquet hall with shades of blue, grey, and white with hints of a green undertone — all shades and colors that felt like Akaashi — Osamu wondered where the promise of marriage went or why he decided to believe in foolish, childhood dreams.
Amongst the crowd of others who love Akaashi and his husband, Osamu raises a glass, looking no different to Akaashi from anyone else in the crowded space because he wasn’t the one Akaashi was marrying, and he says his final goodbye to the first and, only love, he’s had until now.
***
How does one fall in love?
“ It began slowly. An appreciation, an affinity. Then, one day, it became more serious. Then it became somehow personal.” - Maggie Nelson, Bluets